


Forks

by Euterpe



Category: Twilight Series - All Media Types, Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-02
Updated: 2015-10-02
Packaged: 2018-04-18 18:15:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4715786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Euterpe/pseuds/Euterpe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Edward hates the city of Forks. There's little sun, the people are rude, and he's stuck in the middle of what could become a full-blown turf war between its two rival gangs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forks

There's something Edward hates about Forks.

It's not the extreme lack of sun (which, by now, is ridiculous if not magical). It's not the filthy, crime-ridden slums or the general hostility of its residents. It's not the moldiness of the rain-streaked buildings or the frequent brick-colored stains on the sidewalks. It's not even the insistent noise of the concrete jungle. 

It's not anything tangible, but Edward hates it. There's a taste to Forks, a saltiness that reminds him of rust and rubies, of greens and ghettos, of disease and desires. Edward likes to think that the city of Forks was once a spiny monster that drowned in the ocean. In many ways, Forks  _is_  a spiny monster. But it's not the one that's drowning. The _people_ who live in Forks are the ones who are drowning in the _city_. And he hates that. 

If Edward didn't live in Forks, if he could live in any other place in the world, he supposes he'd go back to Chicago. He doesn't remember much about Chicago. Louder, probablymore dangerousnot as hopeless. It was brighter; once upon a time, Edward grasped chubby handfuls of sunshine through the bars of his crib. Once upon a time, he chased rainbow dots refracted from his mother's crystal windchimes hanging around the apartment. Once upon a time, Edward tickled the leaves of the potted mystery plant stretching on the windowsill. Once upon a time, he taught himself he'd never forget his parents' faces.

There's nothing left of them anymore, not even a blur. Now it's just Carlisle, just the Cullens. Now it's just Forks.

Edward stubs out his cigarette. He grinds it against the pavement with his heel. Across the street, a woman's son begs her for ice cream. Edward passively watches the mother slap the child and tell him that it's not warm enough for ice cream.

===

On his way back home, Edward comes across the body of a fat man lying at the entrance of his alleyway. Blood stains the entire front of his white collared shirt. Edward guesses that one of his people shot him. Then he sees the two post-mortem puncture wounds at the side of the fat man's throat, weeping red like two infected eyes. Now Edward  _knows_ that one of his people shot him. It was probably Emmett, and he was probably drunk when he did. Figures.

Edward nudges the fat man out of his way with his toe. The police will deal with him soon. Edward wonders whether the fat man knew what he was doing when he stirred things up in Cullen turf.

Wolves aren't welcome in this part of Forks.

===

Jasper is leaning against Edward's apartment door, his face impatient and his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans. Jasper straightens when Edward approaches. "Carlisle wants to see you," he says.

The sky is darkening outside the dusty window at the end of the hallway. Edward hasn't had dinner yet, and he doesn't feel like dealing with the general atmosphere of the Black Fang nightclub on an empty stomach. He reaches behind Jasper and grasps the doorknob in his right hand. "Right now?"

"No, next year. _Of course_ right now. Edward, you kept me waiting for at least an hour."

Edward doesn't move.

"I'll buy you dinner," says Jasper.

Whatever Carlisle wants to see him about is important enough for Jasper to warrant dinner, and whatever Carlisle thinks is important is always an unavoidable talk. Edward releases the doorknob and straightens his leather jacket. "Fine."

===

When they pass the fat man again, Edward asks Jasper if he knows what happened to him. "Esme," says Jasper. Edward finds himself mildly surprised.

===

The Black Fang is busy; it's a Friday night, and drunken patrons are already shoving each other over the noise of their dazed sorrows. The club is humid, warm, and smells like cigar smoke. Someone jostles Edward's shoulder as he heaves through the smog. Jasper coughs loudly enough for Edward to hear him.

Rosalie is behind the bar tonight. She's busy whenever the club is busy, and she pours drink after drink without stopping. When she turns around for a brief glance, she catches Edward's eye, giving him a brief, uneasy grin behind her glossy lips and blonde tresses. Edward wonders why Rosalie's hair is loose from its usual up-do, but she suddenly occupies herself by taking the next customer's order with such an acidic facial expression that Edward stops wondering.

Carlisle Cullen's office is on the second floor. Only his personal friends and the other Cullens know the location of the creaky staircase behind the polished piano in the back of the club. The entrance is so low that Edward needs to duck in order to squeeze through the doorway. He remembers a time when he and Jasper used to dash around the area without having to lower a head. That was a long time ago, but to Edward it feels like it happened last Sunday.

There is a photograph hanging in a dark frame on the back wall of Carlisle's office. It's a snapshot of a younger Carlisle in a graduation cap and gown, his head tilted slightly towards the right. Edward had always guessed that Carlisle was raised in a wealthy family that paid for his college tuition. Carlisle was supposed to become a physicianhe had all of the training and education necessary. He could have led a respectable life, and he almost did. He still works as a surgeon in the Forks General Hospital, but everyone in the city knows that Carlisle's gang members control the northeastern side of Forks and a little bit of Olympic Park. Edward still hasn't discovered why Carlisle chose to run the Forks branch of the Vamps, an infamous international crime syndicate. He thinks the reason why Carlisle has adopted so many orphans into his misfit family was to give his crime boss status a philanthropic purpose. It's just the way Carlisle is: educated and philanthropic and charming and yet a gang leader.

"Edward," Carlisle says stiffly as Edward and Jasper enter the room. He's sitting in his mahogany desk in the center of the room. Esme is glaring out the side window at something Edward can't see. "Where have you been?"

"Out," says Edward.

Carlisle clasps his hands and unclasps them, repeating the motion as he speaks. "Do you know who paid me a visit an hour ago?"

Edward smiles humorlessly. "Not me."

"The White Wolf sleeping outside our bar," says Carlisle. "You probably saw him on the way in." Edward nods, gesturing for Carlisle to continue. "He came with a message from Billy Black. According to them, a Wolf was murdered on their own turf this morning. The victim doesn't bear any mark of ours, but they suspect that we have something to do with it." He pauses. "Edward, you hang around the borders a lot. We know you don't like to stick to one side of the city, so we need to know if what they suspect is true."

Silence. Edward blinks, slightly taken aback. "Carlisle, are you accusing me of killing a Wolf on their own fucking land?" he asks. 

"I'm not," Carlisle replies, "but the messenger did. Insisted upon, even. Esme took care of him." Edward peeks at Esme again, who is still standing by the window. Carlisle clears his throat and rises from his chair. "Edward, that's not the only reason I called you here. I need you to tell me if you've seen anything suspicious. The White Wolves are anxious, moreso when they'll hear about what Esme has done, and if the murderer was one of us, we are in  _a lot_ of trouble.  Is there anything we need to know?"

Edward racks through his memories of the day. He had a club sandwich at the Golden Deli. He smoked a cigarette outside of the arcade on Brand Street. He watched the mother slap her child. "No, nothing," he says.

Carlisle sighs. He turns to glance at Esme, then back to Edward. "Tell me if you do. Please."

"Yeah."

===

Edward doesn't realize that Jasper has abandoned him until he has already walked out of the nightclub and into the cold night air. The Black Fang's hazy lights shine upon the fat man's figure lying in the alleyway, a lump of meat piled onto itself in rolls of stillness. The fat man's silhouette reminds Edward of a giant stuffed bear Carlisle bought him for his sixth birthday. Edward had dragged the colossal thing with him everywhere he wentthe school, the house, the Soda Fountain, the streets. Sooner or later it was worn to a pathetic degree: fur was falling off in patches and the needlework became undone. All it took the neighbor's Rottweiler to rip its head clean off was a little tug.

He hasn't owned a stuffed animal since.

===

Edward eats dinner at Jonathan's, a restaurant near Olympic Park in a neutral strip of Forks. He orders a spaghetti and chats with his waitress, Jessica, who happens to be the owner's granddaughter. A table with broken legs is leaning in a corner of the brightly-lit restaurant; neutral space also means that encounters that do happen don't end peacefully.

As he waits for his food, Edward's attention drifts toward the door. In walks a boy wearing a white leather jacket. He holds the door open for an elderly couple leaving the restaurant.

The boy in the white jacket smiles.


End file.
